Welcome Back Sammy
by raichell
Summary: What happens after Death returns Sam's soul to him. Castiel/Dean Romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:**

This story is based after season 6 episode 11, about Sam getting his soul back. Also features Castiel/Dean romance.

Please rate & review!

* * *

Sam lay still on the stone table, his gigantic frame motionless - including his chest. It didn't look good. He remained that way for a while, with Castiel and Dean on either side of him. Both the angel and older brother had the same emotions mirrored in their eyes – fear, anxiety, compassion - yet they expressed it in different ways. Castiel was reserved, his outer case appearing indifferent to the tragic events laid before him. Dean, in contrast, revealed everything – the curtains drawn back and the spotlight on. His mouth was distorted in a look of panic, sweat trickling down his creased forehead, his knuckles white from his clenched fists.

Time continued to pass. Sam remained the same.

"Cas….." Dean murmured, although his gentle overtone sounded deafening due to the silence of the room. His voice faltered, unable to continue the rest of his thoughts. But Castiel understood, and with a grief-stricken voice he replied, "I'm sorry Dean, I don't know if he's going to be okay."

Dean nodded, but it wasn't a nod of comprehension but one of thought – his mind was already plotting and strategizing what he would do next in order to save his counterpart. Did he need a conversation with Death? Or…was Sam's soul too broken? Broken beyond repair…his Sammy gone forever, like his father and mother, himself the last man standing. No, it couldn't be. Dean forcefully shook these negative thoughts out of his head, unwilling to face them.

Castiel saw the desolation and despair within Dean's eyes. Whenever he was around him, he always felt so vulnerable and human. Yes, there was a war in heaven – but that wasn't the reason he chose not to spend more time with his favourite Winchesters. It was because he hated how small he felt within Dean's presence. His heart would always beat at a faster pace and he often found himself lost for words. His stomach always felt like dropping, dropping into a vast pit of emptiness that would swallow him up within moments. But more painful than all that was the ache and longing in his heart when Dean wasn't around. Castiel knew he had to endure this though – it was safe. He didn't understand why Dean had caused him to feel the way he did, or what he meant, but he knew it was strange. There was something wrong with him. No angel was supposed to experience this. He had exposed himself too much to the human world

Castiel wasn't sure why but he felt a burning urge within himself to comfort the older Winchester. He felt desperate to touch Dean, caress the warmth of his skin to let him know that soon things would be okay. He felt his body move unconsciously, slowly edging its way to the familiar scent of Dean's aftershave. Dean, however, was too focused on Sam, his eyes locked on his younger brother's immobile body, completely unaware of an approaching hand…

Castiel was sweating, his heart racing so fast it felt like exploding, but he knew that if it did, it would only release euphoria and ecstasy. His hand was only inches away from Dean's and he just felt that he had to…he needed to…

Dean gasped as he felt the warmth of flesh on flesh.

"Cas….?" His eyes were wide with shock, his mouth open as if swallowing a rocket. Castiel immediately released his grip, feeling his cheeks burning away as though set on fire. What was this emotion? Embarrassment? It was horrible. He felt like pouring oil all over himself and lighting a match.

"What…was…that?" Dean finally managed to gasp out, each word a painful stab in Castiel's heart. Castiel couldn't let Dean know – especially now that he knew his love was unrequited.

He muttered, "Oh, I thought it was something you humans do in an attempt to comfort one another." He looked down as he spoke; ashamed of having to lie to the only man he had loved. Yet he had to cover his tracks hide the yearning of his heart.

"Oh…..oh…..ah!" Dean thought he understood. Castiel had simply misinterpreted a human interaction. He wasn't hitting on him. He waited for relief to flood him; but instead was filled with…disappointment? Impossible! He wasn't…He didn't…No…Not with the angel who had guarded him for so long…one that was more like his best friend than…

"Haha, you gotta be careful Cas, if you were serious I'd have to shoot you for being gay!" Dean mocked him in an attempt to forget what had just happened. Castiel forced a chuckle – hiding the misery that silently suffocated him. Yes, Dean could never know…

A gasp. A loud gasp, as though one hadn't received the benefits of oxygen in over a century. A loud gasp that could only come from a giant body like the one on the table. A loud gasp that sounded like Sam's. His body jerked up and his eyes were wide with shock; like a newborn. Sammy was back.


	2. Chapter 2

"SAMMY!" Dean roared, his voice echoing throughout the concrete walls of the panic room. He looked like a child on Christmas day after spotting all the presents under the Christmas tree. A grin stretched for miles was plastered across his face as he embraced Sam, tightening his grip on his little brother.

"You had me so worried there, little bro," he exhaled with relief. His eyes were watering. All the time, however, Sam remained unresponsive, simply enjoying the rush of oxygen. At last he finally acknowledged his brother and smiled, "Dean!" "Dean…Dean…Dean…" he continued to mutter like a broken record stuck on repeat. Each time he repeated the name, his voice grew smaller and smaller, sadder and sadder…until by the final time he uttered the word his voice was barely audible.

"What's wrong? Hey, come on! Talk to me, Sammy!" Dean desperately shook his brother, hoping to shake back the life and energy into him. Sam remained calm, his face absent-minded and emotionless. He just sat there, staring into space. It didn't make sense. Then, a tear trickled down his face, collecting at the tip of his nose before cascading down to the floor.

"It hurts…" Sam whispered. Then he closed his eyes and lay back on the table.

"He's not...is he, Cas?" Dean couldn't even say the word.

"He's still alive, don't worry." Castiel reassured him. "His chest is still heaving. Look," he explained as he pointed at the slow movement of Sam's torso. Dean stared at this, appreciating each lift and fall that showed his brother was still alive.

"What's wrong with him?" he finally questioned.

"His body needs time to adjust. Let him rest."

"But…he said that…it hurts…"

"Perhaps it is the itch of the wall. However, there's nothing we can do about it now. We have to wait until he wakes up and then see what happens."

Dean nodded in agreement, then exited the room to enter the spare bedroom in Bobby's house. Castiel was quick to follow, unwilling to be separated from Dean, especially in times of such hardship.

Dean slumped down, resting his head on his arms. Guilt was like a monster living within him, ready to consume him from inside-out. Whatever Sam was going through – it was all his own, selfish fault.

"Don't think like that, Dean," Castiel spoke softly.

"Wha- How did you know what I was thinking?" Dean didn't know that angels could also read minds.

"We can't read minds, Dean. I can just guess – quite accurately – what you're thinking because of our prolonged acquaintance." Actually, Dean's mind was the only one which Castiel had ever understood. He adored and worshipped the way in which his mind worked, the kindness of his heart reflected in each selfless thought. Castiel sat down on the bed beside Dean. He hesitated for a second, but sensing Dean's weakness, he put his arm around his broad shoulders. A jolt of electricity struck through him as he once again came into contact with Dean's godlike figure. If only he could get more…

This time, Dean was too overwhelmed by the situation with Sam to think about his feelings, instead allowing his body to give into Castiel's touch. He enjoyed the angelic warmth that surrounded them. Dean was so defenseless and Castiel felt a pang of guilt for abusing this. Tears rolled down Dean's cheeks but Castiel was quick to wipe them away, his rough hands stroking Dean's warm-out face. Dean looked much older than his years from all the pressure he had been given from birth. It was like he always carried the weight of the world of his shoulders and it certainly took its toll. Castiel understood how hard it was to be a hunter, especially when there were some people like Lisa and Ben awaiting Dean's return to continue their normal, apple-pie life. This thought only made him hold Dean harder.

"Thanks, Cas…" Dean murmured, grateful for having a friend to comfort him. But was he really just a friend…? Dean lifted his head so that it was only inches away from Castiel's. Castiel looked down and their eyes locked. The room around them had frozen. So had time. It was now just the two of them in the entire universe. Castiel saw all the pain and hurt in Dean's eyes and wanted to wash them away, replace them with love and passion. His own heart seemed to overflow with love and he felt only too happy to share it with Dean. Theirs heads moved closer together and soon, they felt the ecstatic sensation of their lips joining. Their first kiss. It started off as a light one – just a simple brush of their lips. But Dean craved for more. His kiss became more forceful, more desperate as he wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled him in closer. Castiel was only too willing.

Was it really happening? What Castiel had spent endless nights dreaming about it. Yes, it was…It really was Dean and Castiel. Together.

Dean took off his shirt and Castiel admired his muscular torso, stroking his hand across each plane. Dean's body was so perfect, carved by God himself, that Castiel could barely breathe. Dean smiled before teasing him, "You wish this was yours, don't you?" Castiel chuckled and responded, "Actually, I do."

"It is now," Dean whispered into Castiel's ear before planting a trail of kisses down his neck.

Sam stood in the doorway, his head bleeding, sickened by what he saw. They didn't care about him at all. He turned his back and left.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean awoke in Castiel's arms.

"Good morning," the angel greeted him.

"Mm…hi…" Dean replied sleepily, his head feeling groggy. He didn't expect to sleep so easily. He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep for weeks, too consumed by guilt.

"Oh…crap! Sammy!" He remembered his younger brother, most likely in unbearable agony. He scrambled out of bed quickly, putting on his favourite black shirt in a rush. "How is he?"

"Sorry, I don't know. I…uh…haven't moved since we…" Castiel looked down and blushed. Dean smiled; Castiel looked so cute when his cheeks were red.

"That's okay."

Dean raced to the panic room, expecting to see his brother doubled up in pain. But what he saw hurt him even more. The table was empty.

"Sammy? SAMMY?" Dean shouted in a frenzy, his eyes scouting all corners of the room. There was nowhere to hide. He heard the flutter of Castiel's wings beside him. Before Dean could start to ask, Castiel already replied, "He's not here. I can't feel his presence."

"Then WHERE THE HELL IS HE?" he raged.

"I don't know…I'm sorry…"

"I should have been with him! I should have been there when he awoke!"

"You couldn't have known…Perhaps…This is my fault, I shouldn't have distracted you," Castiel murmured apologetically. He was hoping that Dean would reassure him and say "Don't blame yourself" and comfort him with a kiss, but Dean's reaction was quite contradictory.

"Yeah, I think it is your fault Cas. You call yourself an angel; you can't even find my brother. I wish you never followed me last night…" Dean snapped. Castiel recoiled, surprised at the harshness of his words. So much for love.

"I really am sorry, I will do my best to find him now…" And with that, Castiel was gone.

Dean cursed. Not only had he lost his younger brother, but he had hurt that one that he…loved?...or at least cared deeply about. He ran his hand through his hair before cursing again.

* * *

"Need a room?"

"A single."

Sam unlocked his motel room and sat down on his bed. His head itched like hell – the mother of mosquito bites, the king of rashes. He had already given in several times; bloody streaks running down the side of his face from all his scratching. He could feel the flesh encapsulating his skull actually weakening, the layer slowly eroding.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to remember anything from when his soul was in hell, but his mind kept drawing a blank. It was as though the memories were dangling right there in front of him, but whenever he tried to reach out and grab them, they were always just slightly out of his capacity. Sam moaned. He could feel again, but all that he felt was despair and agony. Loneliness. Getting his soul back was the worst thing that could happen, because now his heart was broken too.

_I thought…Dean loved me, that I meant everything to him. He wanted me back so badly, yet when I finally come, he's already found someone else. He doesn't need or want me…just Castiel…_Sam thought sadly to himself.

He laid down on the hard, piece-of-crap motel bed and attempted to fall into a state of sleep. It was impossible. His head was beyond irritating, all he could think about was scratching, scratching, scratching… scratching the barricade to welcome a flood of unwanted memories…

Why had Dean cursed him and left him for dead? He got out of bed, knowing that there was no way he could sleep in his current state. He grabbed the bundle of cash he had stolen from Bobby and wandered off into town to stock up on guns and salt. He had been a hell of a hunter without his soul. He wanted to test his skills now that it was back. At least, it would help him take his mind of the itch.

As he entered a nearby gun shop, Castiel stood outside the window. Sam was too easy to find – he was still within a five mile radius from Bobby's house. Castiel watched silently as Sam purchased a shotgun, hiding himself as Sam exited. He followed Sam all the way back from the store to his hotel room, realizing his intentions as Sam began researching any recent supernatural cases on the internet.

* * *

"He's planning on hunting again. Solo." Castiel informed Dean.

"The bastard!"


	4. Chapter 4

A woman had mysteriously been slaughtered in her own home. There were no traces of anyone breaking in. The neighbourhood camera revealed her letting a man into the home, obviously someone she was familiar with. However, the picture was too blurry to make an accurate guess as to who the man was.

_Possibly a shapeshifter_, Sam thought, _I'll have to check the footage._

_

* * *

_

"FBI here. I'd like a look at that tape," Sam spoke with authority. The man agreed at once, not even asking to inspect Sam's fake badge. It felt good to be on a case again, but a large part of him ached. He missed Dean. Sure, it was okay hunting solo without a soul, but now it was back, he felt so alone and incomplete. It wasn't right hunting without his counterpart.

"Here it is," the man interrupted his chain of thoughts. Sam saw the glowing eyes. _Yep, I was right, it was a shape shifter._

"You don't know why his eyes are glowing, right?" Sam questioned the guard, looking for some humour.

"Well…er, maybe there was a glitch with the camera. Or he was wearing some kind of high-tech glasses."

"High-tech glasses? Really?" Sam mocked sarcastically.

"Well uh, I'll tell you what I really think…" the man looked both ways to check no one else was nearby before whispering in Sam's ear, "It's an alien. Spying on us. They're preparing to take over Earth." The guard looked so serious about it that Sam had to force himself not to laugh.

"I think you could be right there…you keep checking those tapes, and watch yourself." Sam said with all seriousness before exiting. Then he let out a roar of laughter. Ignorant humans always amused him the most.

He was about to make a joke to Dean only to realize that as he looked left, there was only air. His heart pained again – a feeling that he hadn't felt in a year, but now a constant suffering he endured. Oh, Dean…

Dean stood beside Castiel in the neighbourhood watching Sam from a distance. He felt proud of his younger brother, manipulating people with his fake badge. When he saw Sam burst in laughter, he felt himself chuckle absentmindedly in unison.

"What's so funny?" Castiel asked. "Could you hear the joke from all the way over here?"

"Oh…nevermind. You wouldn't understand." Dean had been giving Castiel the cold shoulder ever since their fight. He wasn't actually angry at him, but he was angry at himself. How could he give into his own selfish wants and abandon Sam? Even if he wanted a…relationship…with Castiel, he shouldn't have put it before his own brother. That's why he now had to distance himself from the man he loved; he couldn't allow him to get any closer.

Castiel was dying inside. He couldn't feel his heart anymore; only the empty vortex that remained after it was ripped out. He couldn't call himself an angel anymore either; he was as weak as any mortal. How could he allow himself to be consumed by human emotions? What pained him the most was having to stand by Dean all the time, helping him reconnect with Sam. Being next to him without being able to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him, like he did that one magical night…Oh, Dean…

Opening the manhole, Sam dropped down into the sewers. He knew it was the most probable place to find the shapeshifter. But what did it want? Equipped with a silver knife, Sam stealthily edged his way along the moudly walls. He would soon find out.

He searched for what seemed like hours, but was unable to find anything other than rats and other dead animals. His head itched the whole time. Sam had to fight the urge to use his knife to scratch his head…his hand twitching as his head ached more and more. But Sam had been bad. He had slipped up a few more times, scratching his head to relieve himself. Every time he did, it released ecstasy throughout his veins. However, at the same time, he saw flashes of red – a violent, bloody crimson and blood-curdling flames. Flames from hell. Each flash burned his eyes. What the hell was going on inside his soul?

As Sam began to relieve himself once more, scratching his head, the rush of blood trickling down again, he heard footsteps approaching. But it was too late! The shapeshifter delivered a heavy blow to Sam's torso, causing him to double over in pain. Sam lashed out with his knife in all directions, but he kept missing as the shapeshifter delivered more and more blows. On his knees, in agonizing pain, Sam roared, "What is it that you want?"

"It's not what I want, it's what the master wants. You and your brother dead. Forever." The shapeshifter hissed, cackling before delivering a final blow that knocked Sam to the brink of unconsciousness. He thought for sure he was a goner. But as the shapeshifter towered over him, Sam saw a sharp, silver blade coarse through its heart. The shapeshifter fell dead to the floor. Sam saw the faint figure of his older brother before the darkness swallowed him.

* * *

Sam awoke in his hotel room. His head throbbed so much it felt like the hangover of the century. Actually, he was surprised that every inch of his body didn't ache after the beating.

"Hey, Sammy…How are you feeling?" Dean smiled sympathetically. "Cas fixed you up, so you should be okay…except for your head…" his voice trailed off guiltily.

"Dean…you…came for me?"

"Not everyone ditches family." Dean snapped. Sam was taken aback by Dean's sudden response. He wanted to tell him about the rejection and isolation he felt after he saw Dean and Castiel together…to explain to him that was why he left, that he felt unwanted, unneeded…but he somehow couldn't find the words. Instead, he sighed. He lifted his hand up to scratch his head.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean swiped Sam's hand away. "Do you want all those memories to come back or what?"

"You don't know what it feels like, Dean…" Sam whimpered.

Dean looked at his helpless, vulnerable little brother. He saw those puppy dog eyes of his that made his heart melt. What had he done?


	5. Chapter 5

"So...a shapeshifter, huh?" Dean began to wonder, his mind once again a hunter's.

"Well, you killed it!" Sam reminded him.

"And it said its master gave it orders to kill us..."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah. Crowley never killed the alpha and now it wants revenge."

"Exactly."

"Are you scared, Sammy?" Dean asked jokingly; he wasn't expecting a serious reply.

"...Not of that..." Sammy whispered, his eyes absent and pain stricken. Dean could feel the tears starting to well up in his own eyes, so looked up at the ceiling to stop them from trickling out. Sam, however, misinterpreted his gesture.

"You miss Castiel, right?" Sam asked with a tone of irritation. This was their bonding, chick-flick moment and of course, it had to be ruined by a certain angel that Dean cared about more than his younger brother.

"What? No, it wasn't that!" Dean stammered, surprised that Sam could sound so spiteful over his old friend. Sam shook his head in disgust and grabbed his jacket.

"Whatever, Dean. I'm outta here."

"Sam? Where the hell do you think you're going?" But before Dean could finish asking, Sam was already out the door. Great. Dean sighed - maybe it was best to give Sam a little space. He knew it wouldn't be easy for Sam having his soul back, but he didn't expect him to be so cold and hateful towards his older brother. Dean just didn't know Sam was acting this way towards him and Castiel...

...Did he? No...He couldn't have...

There was no way he saw the two of them.

...Was there?

* * *

"...Cas...I need you..." Dean felt himself murmur unconsciously. The familiar sound of Castiel's wings soon broke the silence of the room.

"What is the emergency, Dean?" Castiel choked out. He couldn't think straight anymore.

"Well, it's not an emergency per se..."

"Where's Sam?"

"Out."

Castiel nodded.

"I think he knows."

"About?" But Castiel could already guess what Dean was about to say.

"Us." Dean whispered. His heart skipped a beat at the sound of the word - 'us'. Him and Castiel. Together. The two of the them, passionately in love, forever devoted to one another...

Castiel nodded, unsure of what he was so supposed to say. Was he supposed to apologise? But then, a question suddenly popped into his mind, one which he blurted out before he could think twice about it.

"Do you regret that night?" It came out so fast, like a vomit of words. Dean's eyes popped as he looked at the angel; he never expected such a question. And now he was supposed to answer, he wasn't sure what to say.

"I..uh...well..." Dean began to stammer, before sighing and finally responding with the truth, "Yes."

If Castiel's heart wasn't already broken, it was now being crushed by a hammer into tiny, miniscule pieces, never to be repaired or glued together for all of eternity. He couldn't take the torture anymore. He prepared to retreat back to Heaven - a place where he didn't have to suffer the indignities of human emotions. Yet he stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of Dean whispering the word "But." His heart grew hopeful.

"But...it wasn't me and you that I regret. It was me selfishly putting us before Sam." This, Castiel could understand. He knew how nothing came in the way of their brotherly bond and he certainly didn't expect anything different from Dean. Second best would be enough for him.

Dean looked down as he continued – where was all his confidence? "I mean…that night, for me…was….I'm sorry for being so cold..."

"You don't have to explain." Castiel hushed him with a kiss; more than a gesture of affection but one to also show his understanding. Dean welcomed Castiel's now familiar touch, his distinctive and exotic taste. Castiel pulled Dean into the kiss, running his hand tenderly across Dean's back; stroking away his worries and pain. Dean could feel the burning desire again that longed for more of Castiel, to feed his insatiable appetite. He quickly drew himself back from Castiel, jumping awkwardly off the bed.

"Crap, Cas, we can't go through this again…"

Castiel was puzzled. Did Dean love him or not? One moment their love was set on fire, the next, the blaze had just been doused out. Why did Dean always insist on extinguishing the flames of the love?

"Not when Sam's like this…he needs us now, as friends. Until we can fix him, I'm not sure if we can…" Dean couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He was disgusted by them, loathing them – they were the barricade between their love. But he knew they were true and that he couldn't be selfish now. His little brother needed him. Castiel nodded in understanding, although his eyes reflected sorrow and grief. Tension hung damply in the air, almost suffocating, as the duo stared back at each other. Simultaneously, they sighed.

* * *

"Give me a shot of whiskey. Actually, screw it. Make it a double." Sam ordered at the bartender. She was kind of cute actually; a redhead. Her large, emerald eyes were warm and inviting and seemed to be beckoning Sam to enter the jungle paradise. He winked at her as she placed his glass before him. She blushed and smiled; the crimson of her cheeks like the flames of her hair. After a couple drinks, Sam realized the bartender was gone. He looked around for her; searching for the red…

"I'm right here," she giggled from behind Sam. She wasn't wearing her bartender outfit anymore – she'd changed into casual yet sexy attire. A tight-fitting black shirt and a denim skirt. "I've just finished my shift. How about we go back to my place and…" she smiled enticingly, "get to know each other."

Before she finished saying the sentence, Sam was already out of his chair and putting his jacket on.

Her apartment was within walking distance from the bar and they soon arrived at a modern apartment block.

"This way," she instructed as she grabbed Sam's hand and led him to her door. As soon as they were in, Sam was immediately all over her – his giant hands tangled in her crimson curls, rubbing her thigh, stroking the back of her neck. She wrapped her long, tan leg around Sam's back, locking them together. Theirs lips moved like the flow of water - naturally, smoothly. But more like violent rapids than a gentle stream as they forced themselves onto one another - each kiss rushed and desperate.

Just as Sam was about to remove his shirt, he spotted her about to take something out from behind her.

"Damnit!" he moaned. He broke her vice-like grip and sprinted to the kitchen as the girl took out her knife. He himself grabbed one – hopefully it was silver – and the fight began. She lunged at him, her eyes menacing and hungry. Hungry for revenge. It kinda turned Sam on, in a sick way. She was smoking hot after all - at least, her body. He felt disgusted at himself as he sliced her throat with ease. But luckily enough, the knife was silver. The shapeshifter fell to the floor. Just when things were getting started, she had to turn on him. Couldn't she have waited until after they had...?

_Since when did Shapeshifters become so sexy?_ Sam whined.


End file.
